


Are You In?

by twowritehands



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Dom!Benji, Dom/sub, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015) Spoilers, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: Ethan giving Benji a quick blow job in Austria leads to feelings, and then Ethan nearly dying in Casablanca leads to sex unlike anything Benji has ever done before...Fic takes place during Rogue Nation.
Relationships: Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	Are You In?

**Author's Note:**

> It's a one shot because what even are chapter breaks? Sorry not sorry for the tiny scroll bar :)
> 
> Also, Ethan will have sexy energy with Ilsa, but this is NOT a love triangle fic.

As soon as the deadly woman in the yellow dress dove out of the car, the menacing tail faded in the rearview. Benji exhaled once the immediate danger had passed. But the city was still on high alert thanks to the car bomb that had just killed the chancellor of Austria.

This was bad.

Ethan stayed on his knee, watching through the back windshield for a while before he finally shifted and settled facing forward with a hard sigh. 

Benji got his first good look at Ethan in six months. The word _haggard_ sprang to mind. Underfed. Exhausted. Concern moved Benji's tongue at once, 

"You don't look great."

Ethan pulled a face to which Benji quickly amended, "I just mean, you look a little tired. How've you been?"

"Busy." Ethan adjusted his jacket and sat up straighter, making direct eye contact in the mirror. "You?"

Benji gulped and shrugged. "Worried about you," he admitted, "And about leaking all those top secret files and this whole stupid mess." He shook his head at the misery of Langley, but then focused on the positives, smiling as brightly as he could muster. "Feels great to be back in action. And it's so good to see you again."

Ethan returned only a shadow of the smile, his voice weary, "You too, Benji. I don't see a lot of friendly faces these days."

The notion wrenched something near the bottom of Benji's esophagus, and he choked quietly. He'd failed to truly appreciate Ethan's position until now. 

What Benji had been imagining as blissful freedom must have been its own kind of hell. He could see the toll it had taken on his once vigorous friend. 

While he had been trapped behind a desk, Ethan had been operating alone, trusting no one, sleeping with one eye open _for six months._

With a gulp, Benji glanced in the rearview, "Well, it seems like you met at least one friendly face. Deep cover MI6? What happened?"

Ethan drew in a long deep breath and exhaled. In the mirror, his weary expression went somewhat dreamy. 

"Ilsa," he said softly. After a beat, he seemed to shake out of a reverie. Back to business. "The man in glasses captured me in London, and when I woke up I was bound, half naked, and she was there…"

Benji expertly made his mind skate right over the images. That was how one survived a decades-long crush. By not indulging.

Ethan continued, "Without even saying a word to me, she made me believe that she was… powerful." He shifted, adjusted his cuffs. "Dangerous--" he scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Benji wanted so badly to hear more detail.

Because somehow she got to him. She made him want her. And Benji desperately wanted to know what Ethan liked in a lover.

"Anyway, things went sideways, and we had to kill our way out. She saved my life."

Benji nodded while deep down there was this sinking feeling. Some unformed, shimmery hopes and dreams floating in his heart had just become a lead balloon in his gut.

Ethan Hunt was falling in love. Again. Another beautiful, intelligent woman he would kill for. Leave the IMF for.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, ditched the car, and made their way through the shadows to the rendezvous point. As they went, Benji began to feel more and more like he was in the twilight zone. 

This didn't feel like the good old days in the field with Ethan. And it wasn't the Ilsa stuff. Because frankly there was always some gorgeous woman or other in Ethan's orbit.

What differed was how weirdly… quiet it was. And yes, Benji was usually the one to ramble, but only because Ethan was always so recklessly relaxed and nonchalant in the grip of danger. 

Yet tonight, Benji could sense tension in Ethan's entire demeanor. It was almost like he was afraid.

Which didn't seem right.

But then again--they had just failed to save the chancellor and were no closer to having the answers they had come for.

It wasn't often that IMF agents thwarted an assassination attempt and the night still ended in said assassination. Somehow the enemy had been one step ahead of Ethan. Had implemented failsafes. Back ups to the back ups.

What had little Miss Feel My Power called them? Redundancies.

What kind of mad man went to such lengths? Obviously, a very dangerous one.

And Ethan had been up against this mysterious villain all by himself. For so long.

Benji felt frazzled. It was as if he had shown up late to work with no excuse for why his coworker had had to do all the work.

Inside the hideout, Ethan tossed some items toward Benji. "New identity. Passport, cash, move map. There's a change of clothes in that bag right there. Everything you need to make it to DC undetected. Once you're there you'll have to Inform on me."

"I'm sorry what?" Ethan was sending him back? Just like that?

"Tell the truth," Ethan explained, totally misreading the question "You came to Vienna believing you won two tickets to the opera. I attempted to recruit you into assassinating the chancellor, and you refused--"

"That is not the truth!"

"--Your life depends on them believing you, Benji." Ethan looked into the middle distance, death-like. "It'll go easier if you tell them what they want to hear."

Benji huffed. It didn't even sound like Ethan talking--who was this man admitting defeat? Playing by someone else's rules?

"Ethan... at least tell me what this is all about."

One short presentation later, Benji had a stomach ache. An anti IMF was a terrifying idea, and worse, Ethan was the only person on the planet actively trying to stop it. 

"They could just be a series of random disasters," Benji said hopefully.

"He was there. Every time. Just like he was there tonight, I'm sure of it. I don't know who he is. Where he's from. How he's funded. But I know he is the key."

There was precious little of Ethan's usual fire behind these words. It lacked the ring of total conviction. Was that hopelessness Benji heard at the edges of Ethan's voice?

"Ethan, this is what I signed up for. Let me help you find him."

"That's why I brought you here in the first place!" Ethan snapped, "and look what happened! I can't protect you. That's why I need you to leave."

"That's not your decision to make, Ethan! I am a field agent! I know the risks! More than that, I am your friend. No matter what I tell the polygraph every week! Now you called me because you needed my help. And you still do! So I am _staying_. And that's all we're going to say about that!"

Benji backed down quickly. He hadn't meant to lose his temper. He had only needed to make Ethan understand that some much needed reinforcement had arrived. No one, not even Ethan Hunt, could do all this alone.

Ethan's demeanor shifted. Benji thought he glimpsed the old Ethan somewhere in that tired face. ".....okay."

After determining that their next stop was in Morroco, they changed for the trip. 

Benji got out of his tux wrestling with the same old self consciousness which had plagued him since gym class at Saint Andrews. He tried not to let the insecurities show, of course. Because he had nothing to be ashamed of, and on some unhelpful level, he knew it.

But the unease was still there.

He was in shape. Much more now than ever, but old habits die hard. So he pulled away each article of clothing while looking at the wall and hoping that Ethan did the same.

Yes, Ethan was a deal more mature than rowdy school boys, but he was also a deal more fit than Benji. The kind of fit that came from deep within one's DNA.

Benji couldn't resist glancing at Ethan. His muscles were not only defined, they had a broadness about them; a utilitarian firmness, rather than the puffiness of vanity muscles.

Ethan caught him looking, of course.

Benji blushed and looked straight at the wall again. But then, sensing no movement from Ethan, he glanced back.

Ethan stood half in his pants, grinning at him. Knowingly.

_Oh God._

Benji gulped and hurried to get dressed. Ethan, thankfully, resumed donning his clothes as well. But he never looked away and broke the silence with a soft question, "So who are you seeing these days, Benji?"

Benji huffed. "Where's the time for that?"

Ethan tilted his head, expression burdened with thoughts Benji didn't know. "Why didn't you bring someone to the Opera?"

"That was a mission!"

"You didn't know that going in." Ethan still didn't look away. Of course he loved watching Benji squirm.

He huffed and then bluffed. "I figured it was."

Ethan let him have it. Benji exhaled.

Taking his time unfolding a clean shirt, Ethan shrugged with a frown. "I like a good Opera... Every now and then."

It was code. The cipher was clear in his eyes. Ethan wasn't talking about the Opera. He was talking about--well. 

Cock.

Benji gulped. "Really?"

Ethan's eyes dropped down Benji's body and climbed back up. A shadow of a smile graced his lips, his attitude a little too casual. "Sure. Doesn't everyone?"

Benji tried to play it cool but a nervous laugh tripped out ahead of his words. "Well some of us are a bit more, er, _consistent_ in our appreciation. Not really one for dabbling between the--genres."

Ethan actually chuckled. The wide handsome smile took years off his face, but there was a strange light in his eyes, not exactly humor. "Is dabbling a problem?"

"No. No, no, dabbling is fine. For some people. And. Not fine. For... others."

With a smack of his lips, Ethan shifted his weight and held up a hand. "Benji," he had a fond, but drained, kind of look. "I want to suck your dick. Is that a problem for you or not?"

"Not." Benji said and prided himself on the decisiveness of it. 

***

For Ethan it was all very simple.

He was tired. Bone tired. Tired of hunting for an enigma. Tired of always being too late--like he was tonight, too late to save the Chancellor--and tired of being alone.

Seeing Benji again was the first ray of light in his life in a long time. 

He had always liked Benji. He was funny, even if he often didn't mean to be. He was smart, loyal, and braver than he knew. Yet it wasn't until now that Ethan ever wanted him physically.

That little scene a moment ago had triggered it. Benji putting his foot down and staying in the field--going full on rogue from Langley--with Ethan, despite certain danger, played a huge part in Ethan's sudden shift of feeling.

It was sexy.

And the tux certainly helped accentuate the influx of power.

Ethan had been stunned. And impressed. And darkly, deliciously, intrigued. Like the way Ilsa made him feel only it was more trustworthy and more surprising. More promising.

Then he watched Benji get out of that tux. Pulling away a crisp clean shirt to reveal arms of lean, lightly freckled muscle. A slightly toned chest. A flat, firm plane of a stomach. The sharp points of his hips disappearing below his belted trousers.

Suddenly, sweet Benji The Technician, who had been some pudge with a sweet smile wrapped in a cardigan and lab coat, was gone. And Ethan was finally--maybe for the first time in two years--really seeing Agent Dunn.

So Ethan wanted to suck his dick.

Simple.

***

Ethan was coming toward him. Slow. Dangerous. Very suddenly, Benji thought he probably understood what Ethan had meant by Ilsa making him believe in her power without saying a word.

Benji's automatic response system spazzed out between Fight or Flight.

So he froze.

Ethan drew nearer. A glint in his eye.

Benji clenched his jaw in a wash of nerves and potent desire.

Ethan was now close, and touching his belt--and kneeling. He made it look so easy, so natural. Benji's belt clanked, his fly opened, and Ethan's hand slid under the waistband of Benji's briefs. Calloused fingers circled his cock, starting with a soft touch and a lazy rhythm. 

Benji unfroze, a hand going to Ethan's hair. Ethan smiled up at him and leaned into the touch. _Oh, God_. Ethan's unbelievably feathery soft, dark hair slid through his fingers like silk. And right as he registered the sensation, Ethan leaned in and took the head of Benji's dick in his mouth.

Benji puffed out a breath of pleasure and restrained himself from thrusting all the way into that moist wet heat. Ethan's lips puckered over and then off Benji's dick like it was a lollipop. 

He smirked up at Benji, eyes twinkling with that unusual light. "You don't have to look so freaked out."

Benji blushed. "I'm not freaked out, I'm--I'm surprised. And a bit nervous, actually. I can't believe this is something you do. Something you want."

"What's so unbelievable about it?"

Ethan had a way of making things simple. And with one question--a self assured expression and a tilt of his head--it was suddenly simple. Ethan Hunt was… well, he wasn't straight. Bi curious? Some kind of fluid? Maybe even full on bisexual. Whatever it was, _he_ was. He just _was_. And it was not a problem.

So why was Benji trying to make it a problem? Shut up, Benji.

"Well--it's you," he babbled, "You're just so… I don't know. Just never knew it about you, is all. What a surprise! Kind of a mind fuck, seeing you like this."

Ethan chuckled, the breath of it rushing warm over spit-slick cock. "Ok, so I don't do it a lot. But it's been a difficult six months, and this kind of thing always helps me…" he fished for a word and shrugged, "It takes the edge off."

"Ah," Benji played it cool and understanding. He combed his fingers through that amazing head of hair, so pleased that Ethan was admitting to him that he was worn out, that he almost didn't even care that this was a blow job. Almost. "Well, why didn't you just say so? Carry on, then."

Ethan snickered and then swallowed Benji whole.

***

Ethan couldn't blame Benji for babbling _all the way through it._ Because it was particularly good.

It had been a while, longer than he realized, since he had done this.

And, god, he missed it.

The hot velvet weight of a dick on his tongue. The taste. The smell. The sounds. The way someone towered over him, used him, came because of him…

Benji kept gasping and making some guttural kind of Ooo! ah! sounds almost like an ape, and then--seeming to try to stem this habit--he resorted to grunting and growling or just outright babbling.

"Yeah, that's good" he'd say, and, "ah, shit, Ethan I can't believe it!" Then, "yeah like that! wow oh wow yeah." Then when Ethan started stroking himself, "christ, are you actually hard from this? Feels good? Shit, look at you go, yeah you really like it don't you? Make yourself cum sucking my cock."

Babbling while getting sucked off. Could anything in the world be more _Benji_?

Another thing Benji did, probably without even realizing, was gripping Ethan by the ears and thrusting into his mouth, literally fucking Ethan's face. The signature awkwardness of Benji Dunn existed only verbally, because, physically, he had a dark glint in his eyes, a strong grip, steady hands, a rock hard dick jutting from his pants, and the will to shove it where he wanted it.

And that was what made Ethan hard. The man in the tux, taking what he wanted. Telling Ethan what to do. To come. 

So he came.

***

Benji was lost.

Watching Ethan's hand fly over his own exposed cock while his mouth was stuffed balls deep with Benji, was phenomenal. All at once, Ethan gasped, popped off, and grunted, and Benji realized he was coming.

That was all Benji needed. Jerking himself with Ethan's spit, he came swiftly.

He came on Ethan's throat and chest and across his lips. His lovely, red, swollen, slick lips.

Benji had to lean on the wall, burying his face in the crook of his arm for a minute--muffling his somewhat delirious laughter--as he came down from the exquisite heights of it.

When he straightened up, Ethan was still on his knees. Cum spattered. Breathless. Just sitting there, watching Benji. Waiting for something? But Benji didn't know what.

Oh, shit--coming all over someone was one of those Must Be In Agreement First kind of things. Shit.

He plucked up his discarded tux shirt. "Uh, here. Shit. Let me clean you up. I'm sorry."

Ethan chortled, an easy, relaxed sound. "Ok."

As Benji swiped the cum from his friend's hot skin, Ethan leaned into each touch. Pliant. Grinning. Relaxed.

Benji almost felt like saying hello, because he was at last seeing his real friend. He let out a fond chuckle. "I think that did the trick. Don't you?"

Ethan simpered and winked. "Oh, yeah. You really delivered."

Benji beamed with pride. Ethan finally lifted a hand, taking the shirt from him. Benji let it go and stepped back. Ethan got to his feet with a sigh. One of those full lung, contented breaths.

"Thanks, Benji."

Benji gawked. "Wha? I think I ought to be thanking you!"

Ethan chuckled, cutting over to the bags. "Let's go. We have a flight to catch."

***

Benji slept on the plane to Africa. Slumped against the window. Mouth opened a little. Soft snores.

Ethan felt more than the usual fondness and--with a slice of unease--tried to put a lid on it.

Once, long ago, he had entertained ideas of having two lives in one. The successful loving marriage, the house, the dinner parties, the dog, the in-laws, the handcuffs in the bedside drawer, and even the babies, while also having the honorable career of service and duty to his nation, the adventure, the danger, the intrigue, the cool toys, the outrageous gambles.

Ultimately, he'd had to choose.

He'd sworn he would never be so naive again.

So why did he feel like smiling? Why was there a figurative spring in his step? Why did the future seem more _there_ than it had been before? Why was there a picture in his head--soft like silent silhouettes--of having the best of both worlds again, but this time in a way that might…. last?

Benji snorted in his sleep, coming awake enough to push off from the window but still too asleep to sit up. He slumped onto Ethan's shoulder and dropped back to sleep. The snoring was now louder.

Ethan made eye contact with a passing flight attendant who gave him a knowing smile.

Benji's scalp had a musky scent from when he'd sweated during their daring mission at the opera. It was similar to the smell of his pubic hair as he had fucked Ethan's mouth.

Ethan tingled at the thought that this smell could become one of those things. You know, the million little things that you equate with that someone who is your person. Your shelter. Your home.

Ethan scoffed at himself. He was running a little crazy with it, wasn't he? It was one blow job.

… but maybe it was inevitable that he should be feeling like this. Again. Maybe people just couldn't be alone forever, because it wasn't in the design. 

Or maybe--probably--it was just a hormonal reaction to the first sex he'd had in six months.

Either way, Ethan was damn glad to be the shoulder Benji Dunn slept on.

*******

Sixteen hours ago, Benji had been bored to death at a computer terminal. Now he was in Casablanca with Ethan.

 _This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship._

Benji usually loved moments straight out of the movies happening in real life. A clandestine meeting at the opera, for instance-- top tier classic spy movie stuff. Surprise blow job from the hottest guy at work? That was the plot, summary, _and title_ of countless porn videos. 

Meeting a woman called Ilsa in Casablanca? Iconic. 

Benji quietly enjoyed it all, despite Ethan's flagging energy levels. He said it was because he never could sleep well on a plane, but Benji had the feeling that it was more than that.

It was the fate of the world and the stress of being disavowed weighing on him, no doubt. 

He wished there was some way to make Ethan take a few days off, but like that was going to happen.

They found Ilsa on a gorgeous estate with a swimming pool. It was the ideal spot for a much needed vacation. If only it were in the cards. Still, Benji let his imagination swim in the idea of 'taking the edge off' with Ethan a few more times, in a place like this.

Then Ilsa walked out of the pool in that little black bikini, and Ethan's entire demeanor shifted again, exploding Benji's imaginary paradise. 

Ethan wasn't breathing. Or blinking. He was attracted to her, naturally. Any straight man would be and Ethan was--well, _straight enough_.

It rankled Benji to a truly unpleasant degree. He never really had gotten the hang of not being jealous. Even when there was nothing to be jealous about. Casual blow jobs were casual. The only thing truly at risk here was that Ethan might ask someone else to take the edge off next time.

And that was fine. Because it had to be. 

***

Ethan was caught. Just like when he had woken up at her mercy.

Ilsa was like a magnet. She had a field of invisible but very real energy around her.

Ethan remembered to breathe when Ilsa stepped into another room to change. His lungs stuttered for air, which he turned into a chuckle at Benji's expression. It was dark, and frankly the meanest Benji had ever looked.

"What?"

"Easy tiger," Benji said. There was a rigidity to his voice that Ethan hadn't detected there before. There was an intensity to his eyes. "She's working for Lane."

Ethan felt a delicious thrill under his skin from this new energy coming off his dearest friend. It sparked a playful bump of his shoulder and cock of his chin, "She's a double agent."

Benji's eyes flashed. "Could be a triple."

Ethan arched his brow, feeling young and carefree. "Could be a quadruple."

Benji's forehead creased with confusion, and he broke down snickering, shaking his head, looking fond, which just made Ethan tingle as Benji asked, "What does that even mean? Quadruple. Please."

Ethan chuckled more freely. It felt good to laugh after half a year of very little to laugh about. And what was more, it felt good to laugh about stupid things like cheesy spy movie tropes with over extended logic.

But that was what Benji did. He made Ethan smile. Even when the whole world was poised to collapse and Ethan had his shoulder to the wheel and no one out there really cared, Benji could make him forget all of it and smile.

Benji shook his head with a haughty roll of his eyes. "Whatever. I trust your judgement. Just." He pinned Ethan with those intense eyes again. "Use your head."

Ethan put on a halo and showed his palms. "What else would I use?"

Benji's eyes dropped pointedly to Ethan's crotch, but the moment was ruined by their immediate descent into boyish snorts and snickers. 

Ethan calmed himself with a deep breath and nodded. "Don't have to worry about it. We already took care of _that_."

Benji's schoolboy smirk morphed into a smile much more evolved, meaningful, packed with grown up things. Ethan suddenly recalled the feeling of hot cum cooling on his face. 

Just remembering what it had been like, kneeling in that safe room while Benji came all over him, sent a rush through Ethan.

He wouldn't mind doing something like that again. Soon.

The door opened. 

Ethan crashed back into the present moment. Ilsa's gray eyes pinned him with an eerie quality, as if she could see his thoughts. As if she knew what he liked. And she liked it too.

He gulped.

***

Benji had to get the ball rolling. These two seemed content to wag eyebrows at each other all day. He cleared his throat to speak but that mercifully broke the spell. 

Ethan snapped out of it and away they went, all Business. Within minutes, they were studying the blueprints of the factory and formulating a plan just like the old days.

One of them would swap out the profile while the other walked in and accessed the ledger.

Ordinarily, Benji would be entrusted with the technical aspects of the job like hacking the shut off valve or swapping disks. But not this time.

Ethan assigned the jobs, and for whatever reason, Ilsa didn't get assigned the free swim dive despite training for it. 

He made Ilsa the hacker, surprising Benji with the high stakes job of impersonating someone without a mask.

He was flattered and confused. 

It was hard to tell if Ethan believed Benji was ready to be the pointman, or if Benji had somehow accidentally slept his way into it. Maybe Ethan just preferred Ilsa's company. Or maybe it was all three. 

But it didn't matter, really. Because Benji was ready for it. He could do this. He wouldn't let Ethan down.

It literally never crossed his mind that Ethan might fail.

Benji went in. He took his time, acted like he owned the place, he came out. Calm on the outside. Classic super spy stuff. 

Benji honestly loved his job sometimes. He practically skipped to the rendezvous with Ethan below the torus.

"What did I tell you? Was it difficult? Yes, but not--"

Ilsa was there, kneeling over Ethan with shock paddles-- the extra precautionary measure they had brought along on a last second whim. 

"What happened?!?"

Oh god. Ethan had drowned??

Benji rushed to his side. Panic made his throat seize up and his eyes sting. But he found Ethan alive. Eyes open. Breathing. 

Thank Christ. 

Benji couldn't believe it. He felt like such an ass, strutting around like James Bond while Ethan was suffocating underwater doing the tech stuff. And why? Because he knew Benji wanted to do the cool stuff?

If Ilsa hadn't been there--

"Hey," he said to her, breathless, "I misjudged you."

She looked mildly surprised as she accepted the apology and the dry clothes he handed her. Benji felt himself exhale for the first time since arriving in Casablanca.

Ethan had made a good choice.

***

The car flipped three more times than Ethan expected. They must have been going way faster than he realized. Or maybe it was the height of the drop… Didn't matter. They were alive. Sloppy results were still results. Only one bad guy left, then--

Out of nowhere, a jeep eliminated the threat. Ethan was thankful for Luther and Brandt. IMF might have been over, but it wasn't dead. He still had a team he could trust.

The relief should have been more potent. Ethan registered it as if from behind plate glass. These were his friends and they had come all this way to help him, but he barely felt it. Weird. 

"Things got a little out of hand," he admitted aloud.

Benji jolted awake and screamed, "LOOK OUT!"

Ethan didn't laugh, despite recognizing the hilarity of the moment. What was wrong with him? It was pretty bad if not even Benji made him laugh. 

Part of him was resigned to it. This was a job he'd devoted the greater half of his life to. He was bound to go numb to it all eventually. But another part of him raged against the idea. 

Numb to the idea of his own death, sure--but a person shouldn't be numb to the good stuff. 

Ethan eased himself out of the car with a promise burning in his heart and mind. He would _not_ go numb to this life, not to any part of it.

Even if Ilsa did betray him, even if she _died_ , he wanted to feel it. He needed to feel it.

But how?

The rev of motorcycles drew his attention to the highway. He'd have to figure it out later. There was still work to do. 

Ethan hopped on the bike and took off. 

***

The seatbelt was tight across Benji's lap, so that he was hanging upside-down in the smashed car. The car door opened and he saw a knife. Panic sliced through him. 

"Ooh that looks sharp! Ah! Careful! Careful!"

Luther cut Benji's seat belt with one deft flick of the wrist. It slithered free of the fastening and Benji dropped onto his hands, and then his neck. One undignified roll later, he crawled from the wreckage. Just before he was in the all clear, a piece of glass sank into his knee.

"Ouch, dammit!"

Luther hauled him to his feet, dusting his clothes. "You good, man?"

His ears were ringing, but he nodded. "I'm fine. Where'd Ethan go?"

"Took off on a bike. Who are we chasing?" Luther asked as the three of them piled into the 4x4.

Benji explained how Ethan knew and trusted Ilsa. He skirted the details about her "power" over him; they didn't need to know, and the less who knew about it the less real it was--A pathetic coping mechanism Benji couldn't help using. It boiled down to the woman having saved Ethan's life twice now.

For anyone who knew Ethan, that was a blood pact for undying loyalty. She needed help, and he would stop at nothing to be there.

"Okay," Brandt said, "so we find them and help."

Benji's phone rang. "It's Ethan! Hello? Hello, Ethan, where are you?"

"Benji," Ethan sounded over taxed and hollow. "Head north to the next village. I'm at the roadside bar. You can't miss it."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

Benji's Adam's apple twitched. "Yes. Fine. We're coming to you. Is Ilsa there? What happened?"

"I'll explain when I see you."

The call ended. 

Benji gulped. He'd never heard Ethan like that. Completely frayed. At least in Vienna, he had been attempting to hide it. "Drive north. Fast."

They found the place as easily as Ethan had said they would. He was inside, despondent, and barely acknowledged any of them when they arrived. 

They took seats around Ethan and waited for details. Benji exercised some deduction. By the state of his clothes, he'd crashed the motorcycle. Harder to determine was if Ilsa's absence was good or bad. 

"Benji." Ethan finally looked at him. "Tell me you made a copy of that disk."

"Of course I did."

The corner of Ethan's mouth ticked up. "Knew you wouldn't let me down."

Had Ilsa?

"Did Ilsa escape Lane's men?"

The small smile fell. He nodded. 

"That's good isn't it? The only copy of the ledger is going to the right hands. To mi6."

Ethan nodded again. 

A weird beat fell, wherein they all felt it. Ethan Hunt was off his game. 

He was drained again, and Ilsa had gone off without rejuvenating him as she could have done, so easily. Did that mean she wasn't interested?

A flare of hope that he wasn't proud of shot through Benji. It was based in jealousy but that was all harmless when he won, right?

Benji signaled the others to let him handle it. Brandt mumbled something about the restroom, and Luther said he'd buy some drinks. 

Once alone at the table with Ethan, Benji turned to face him. "Ilsa is an enigma. But... at least she's a friend, right?"

Ethan grunted affirmative but didn't say or move much. Benji glanced at Luther waiting at the bar. The man urged him on. 

"Okay, Ethan, you're scaring me. You haven't seemed like yourself since, well, hardly at all since the start of this, but since the torus it's gotten even worse."

Ethan seemed to shake off most of it, and laughed at himself a little. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then met Benji's eye for the first time. There was still an absence in them that Benji didn't like. As strange as the light had been, he missed it now.

"Still a little off balance. I'll be okay."

"Yeah. I'm worried the oxygen deprivation might've resulted in some minor brain damage-- or not," he corrected when Ethan gave him a withering look. "Y'know. Maybe you're just tired. That was a lot all at once. How do you feel?"

"A little sore…. everywhere. Nothing I can't sleep off."

The attempt at levity made something in Benji's neck and shoulders release. He breathed deeply and shook his head. "Not physically. I meant. Y'know. How do you feel?"

Ethan's eyes rocked to him and off again. "Like... I realized something pretty big."

Benji's ears figuratively perked up. He loved when Ethan had epiphanies on a mission. This was the part where he blurred that line between mortal men and gods of espionage.

"What's that?"

"I need you to break me."

The words didn't register right away. It was as if they had been spoken by someone else. Words out of a TV or a radio. Not Ethan to Benji. Because it had absolutely nothing to do with any of it and didn't make sense. 

"What?"

"Tie me down," Ethan gulped audibly. "Make me pleasure you, make me suffer until I break from the power you have over me."

"Ethan--what the _actual_ fuck?"

"Someone has to do it. That's what I realized. That, at some point, I'm going to have to break. One way or the other. And it's better this way than the other way. And it has to be you that breaks me, because you're the only one I can fully trust."

Benji gaped like a fish. Ethan's hand touched his knee under the table. 

"It'd be like that night in the barge in Austria. To take the edge off. But more intense than that. More of a… a Complete System Reset. Are you in?"

"I don't--"

"Are you _in_?"

"Yes. Okay. But--"

"Okay." He sat up and shook out his shoulders. "That's settled. We'll do it in London. Now we need to focus. Guys!" he raised his voice to summon the others, "Let's hit the road."

***

Ethan knew the request was badly timed and way out of left field, but needs must.

Benji had asked how he felt. 

He felt like his existence had shriveled to the point of having no room for emotions. The gritty life of an agent alone on the run required a certain level of detachment. He had been detached for so long, now he saw the world from a glass box, and he wasn't sure how to get out.

He needed someone to shatter it for him.

Like newlyweds experimenting with handcuffs to break through intimacy barriers. Like a sweet prison cell mate helping break through the pain of divorce. Like a good guy in a nice tux breaking through the haze of the hunt.

It was all about _the break_.

And, maybe a little late, Ethan finally saw how to get that on a regular basis. The answer had been right there, all along.

Ethan needed the kind of thing Julia had pretended to give now and again. That Bogdon had reluctantly dished out. That Ilsa's eyes teased him with. 

But more than an empty promise--Ethan needed a real master to rule him. Even if just for one night.

And that master, should he choose to accept, would be Agent Dunn.

***

It was a three and a half hour commercial flight to England. They mostly slept. Benji managed to get a few winks but the proposition just kept slamming into him again and again. 

_I want you to break me._

_Break me._

It kind of made sense, when Benji thought about it. That Ethan would need something like that. Just look at his life. Mission after mission. Bad guy after bad guy. So much at stake. Never backing down. Never giving up. Not ever.

It wasn't really sustainable, was it? That kind of strength. 

There had to be release at some point. Or the unthinkable might happen.

And Ethan felt it. Felt it enough to say something. To say it like that, right in the middle of a mission. 

_It has to be you._

It was so.... Ethan. 

Concise. Straight forward. Facts. Actions. Heart.

It wasn't like Benji didn't remember every detail of that night in the barge. When Ethan had gone to his knees so gracefully. Sucked him so eagerly. Came from doing it… let Benji come all over him and never objected… hadn't rushed to wipe it away, either…

_Just like that night in the barge, but more intense._

More intense? Benji shuddered to imagine it. He literally shuddered as if chilled by a cool breeze.

He tried to imagine it. But it was like his mind didn't even know where to start.

Ethan jolted beside him so violently, Benji was ripped from his thoughts with the certainty that the plane was crashing. 

But it was only Ethan thrashing in his sleep. With a strangled gasp for air, he woke up. His ragged panting for breath had an edge of pain and fear to it. His eyes were panicked.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Benji said, alarmed to see his friend like this. He rubbed his back. People were looking. Ethan was shaking.

"Just breathe. That's it. In. Out. Good. It's okay."

Ethan fumbled for and found Benji's hand. Their fingers laced. Their eyes met briefly. Ethan looked like he was on some sort of brink. A dark, tragic one.

Benji squeezed.

Ethan exhaled and the shaking eased off. Benji stroked his back until he felt the rest of the tension fade, but not vanish. He sat up with a hard throat clear and a sniff, but didn't release Benji's hand.

Ethan still seemed off from his usual demeanor, even having gotten some shut eye. He still looked exhausted and unable to focus. He stared at the back of the seat in front of him, blinking, somewhat dazzed.

Benji's heart clenched. He hated seeing him like this. So… fragile looking. 

He needed a… what had he called it? A Complete System Reset.

"Ethan," Benji said.

Sleepy eyes cut to Benji, a little distracted, grin, "Yeah, buddy?"

"Can we talk?"

Understanding registered in Ethan's eyes. "Of course."

"Ethan--I know what you're asking me to do but … but I think you are seriously overestimating my capabilities."

"Am I?"

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes! I've never done anything like it in my life! I…" he glanced nervously at the total strangers packed around them like sardines and lowered his voice. "I don't know anything about _BDSM_. Well, alright. I know some. But only from what I've read in Kirk and Spock fanfiction! Is that really someone you want to--"

Ethan, shaking his head through Benji's babble, cut in here. "I know you, Benji. I've knelt for you before. You fucked my mouth like you owned it."

All of this Ethan said in a full voice and Benji ducked, looking around panicked. He pointedly leaned in with a harsh whisper,

"That was an entirely different thing!" He hissed, "That was--that was the heat of the moment and helping a friend. And--and--That wasn't--it's not the same as--"

"It's exactly the same," Ethan said, still not whispering. "Stop freaking out. You've got this, Benji. You'll do great."

"You can't possibly know that, Ethan!" Benji forgot to whisper.

"Yes, I can. I've known you for thirteen years. I trust you with my life, so why not my body? You can do it."

Benji huffed, getting irritated. "When exactly do you plan for this reset to happen?"

"After we land. We'll get a room."

"We're landing in 23 minutes!"

"So?"

"So! I need time to prepare. To… to research. So that I know what the hell I'm doing!"

Ethan shrugged, "Trust your instincts. You'll know more than you think."

Benji harrumphed. "You are being reckless."

"How so?"

"You're ready to just--submit--" he whispered the word, "to a complete beginner. No questions asked. No, no... guidelines. No, no... discussion--"

"We're discussing it now."

"It's all just a bit abrupt, isn't it? Oh la di da someone has to break me. I pick you. Like it's all so casual. Look, I get that you... have needs. It makes total sense, actually. And, don't get me wrong, I respect whatever gets you there but--but not everyone can just flip a switch, you know?"

"Benji, are you saying you can't do it, or you won't?"

"I… I don't know exactly what it is you want. For me to break you, you said but what does that mean?"

"Just overpower me," he said stiffly, eyes downcast. "Like you did when I sucked you off. But go further with it. Do whatever you want to me. Tease me. Give me rules. Punish me if I don't obey. Fuck me. Hurt me. Whatever. It doesn't really matter what you do, so long as you have the power. The control. So long as you take what you want and make me suffer for it."

Benji winced at the words and the volume. Ethan was doing absolutely nothing to keep his voice down. Other passengers were glancing their way with wide eyes, irritated sneers, or pure disgust.

Benji desperately wanted to change the subject, but he couldn't yet. He had to know. He lowered his voice, leaning in. "Do you really want _pain_?"

Ethan shrugged, "Suffering isn't necessarily about pain. But, sure, if pain is what you want to give me."

"No--god, Ethan."

Fire flashed in his eyes, "Well, don't act like it's wrong to even talk about it." He said defensively. "I'm not asking for legitimate torture or anything. Just kinky stuff."

Someone cleared their throat, clearly hoping to alert them and somehow end the conversation from one row back.

Benji burned with embarrassment and whispered, "Yeah, but pain is--well, painful."

"Yeah, but some pain is there to make the pleasure even better." Ethan said, clear and loud as a bell. "Hasn't anyone ever bit you on the nipple before?"

Benji guffawed. A woman across the aisle turned fully in her seat and glared at them. Benji gave her an apologetic meep. 

"I know it's a lot," Ethan was saying. "And you're right, it is abrupt. But… you know I'd never ask unless it was… necessary."

Benji lost his breath. But a floodgate seemed to open and Ethan kept talking, finally lowering his voice, "It's Lane. He's smart, Benji. And I'm not sure I can beat him. And I can't shake this feeling that _something_ has got to break or. I don't know--"

His voice cracked on "know", and Benji reacted by touching Ethan's knee, which made him lean into Benji with a huff of frustration. "Please."

"Yes, okay," Benji whispered into the silky hair at his lips.

What was he getting into?

…..An hour and forty five minutes later, Benji was alone in a dark hotel room frantically googling BDSM for beginners and making mental notes. All the articles talked about handcuffs, whips, and other such implements that Benji did not have. Would Ethan want these things? Should he run out and buy a neck tie at the very least? He would then be able to properly tie him up, or maybe blindfold him...

The blogs talked about safe words, but Benji was sure that if Ethan didn't want Benji to continue with any one thing, he'd be able to make it stop. 

A knock on his door startled him.

He grabbed his gun as a precaution and answered it. Ethan's silhouette made him take his finger off the trigger. But he didn't relax. He wasn't exactly out of danger.

Ethan stepped in, and they both closed the door--he leaned on it while Benji pushed, resulting in the pair of them softly colliding as the latch clicked.

"Ready?" Ethan asked. So softly, it was almost like Benji read the words in the shape of the air that brushed his lips.

"Wh--what if I let you down?"

"You never have. I don't think you can."

Tingles spread down his spine. Desire flared to life inside him. "Ethan, I want to help you. And, and touch you and make you feel good but--"

"That's enough. Just follow that instinct."

"Ok…" Benji squared his shoulders. He gulped, and then had to ask, nervously drawing out the first syllable. "Wwwwhere do we start?"

Ethan moved past him into the room. The light came on. Benji winced, and half wished they could stay in the dark for this. He wanted to see Ethan of course, but he wasn't keen on Ethan seeing him.

"Ok," Ethan said, turning to face him. "I say to you that you can have anything from me." He snapped his fingers, "What comes to mind?"

Benji opened his mouth but stopped the words before they came out. He blushed.

Ethan saw that he had something and the corner of his mouth hitched up. He made 'gimme' gestures with his fingers, "Anything goes."

Two words; making it all so simple, again. He also dropped to one knee as he said it, then the other, then down onto his haunches. Kneeling in the middle of the room. Eyes on Benji. Waiting.

Feeling the pounding of his heart in the palms of his own hands, Benji cleared his throat and came forward. He drew a deep breath and just said it.

"Alright--kiss my feet."

His own voice, the words, sounded alien. For a moment, Benji couldn't believe he'd actually managed them.

But he had.

And Ethan's expression was pure surprise. Whatever friendly, self assured, mildly cocky attitude he'd had a moment ago was suddenly gone.

And, like an airbrush artist adding finishing touches, soft pink slashes appeared across his cheek bones. A blush.

Ethan Hunt was kneeling and blushing. And his eyes dropped to Benji's bare feet… his lips parted for a shaky breath. His hands on his thighs curled into fists.

And then he bowed down, and pressed his lips to Benji's right foot, just above his big toe.

 _Oh, god_.

***

Unexpected. Simple. Even sweet. But also degrading. It burned through Ethan. The very act of bowing at a man's feet. Kissing those feet.

Like worship.

Ethan felt his whole body get hot, and his dick started to fill out. He pressed one kiss to the right foot then the left.

Then suddenly the left foot lifted--pressing to his collarbone, pushing him up. Back up into a sitting position.

Oh, hell yeah.

When Ethan looked up, Benji's face was red with heat, and his jaw was slack as if with shock, but his eyes were dark pools of lust. And greed.

He saw Benji's throat work as he closed his jaw and dropped his foot back down. "Good," he said, somewhat croaky. It wasn't a question, but Ethan nodded and blatantly palmed himself through his jeans.

"Right," Benji said. His voice was still rough with desire. He cleared his throat. "The bed. We're going to use it. So stand up."

Ethan rose to his feet, his battered knees welcoming the change in position. He turned toward the bed but Benji caught his arm and--

All at once Benji hugged him tightly. 

***

Benji was in it, now. No going back. The feet thing he'd read once, and he hadn't actually thought it would go so well when he'd requested it. 

For Benji it was like getting a kiss on each foot. Nothing to scream about. Kind of ticklish, actually. But when Ethan sat up, he was flushed and breathless and his eyes were unfocused, and he was touching himself.

Hard, just from following that one--outlandish, kind of silly, kind of degrading--command.

How fucking amazing could one man be? 

So when he could, Benji hugged him. Because he suddenly needed Ethan to be close, in a human way, not in a kinky game way; this beautiful man who had so casually knelt for him in Austria like it was just the most convenient way to take the edge off, when none of it was a game. It was a need. As real as a loaded gun.

Ethan was at first surprised, but then his arms squeezed back like two boa constrictors. He seemed to sag in Benji's arms. And he murmured into Benji's shirt, "Please…"

Benji could feel his heart hammering from the whip of sympathy. If Ethan Hunt needed more, then he was getting more. No matter what it was.

There was a lump in his throat, but he managed to say hoarsely, "I've got rules for you, Ethan. Think you can follow them?"

Ethan nodded, puffing out a soft, "Yeah. Yeah I can be good," as Benji kissed his neck, his jaw, and then his lips.

When Ethan's mouth opened invitingly, Benji breathed into it and deepened the kiss. Clutching hands slipped beneath shirts, and he felt goosebumps erupting beneath his fingers all over Ethan's body. 

Fuck. 

Benji had never been with anyone so sexy and responsive. It didn't make sense how someone like Ethan could be touch starved. But then, how often did Ethan hide his need, or pretend his way into it like on the barge?

Something had to be done about it, and Benji was the man for the job. 

Holy hell, was he the man. 

He steered Ethan to the bed. He went so willingly. Deliciously pliant. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Naked," Benji said, proud to have strung together two syllables, and with an authoritative tone, no less.

Ethan smiled as he stripped down. He just kind of tossed his clothes vaguely in the direction of the corner. Benji knew enough to know he wasn't supposed to let him get away with that. He was maybe supposed to spank him and make him fold the clothes neatly.

But Benji didn't give a damn about the clothes.

"Now me," he said.

Ethan frowned. Benji felt a slice of insecurity. Oh god, was that not right?

"Take off my clothes," Benji said, pretending not to be embarrassed. It had seemed like a good sort of command. Something kind of sexy.

But by Ethan's confusion and now his hesitation, maybe a Dom was supposed to be able to undress himself.

But Ethan moved in close. His hands went to Benji's waist. Fingers curled into the hem of his T-shirt and then under. His palms brushed up Benji's torso from his belly to his collarbones as he pushed the shirt up, then whoosh, over his head.

Benji's nipples hardened. Ethan dropped the shirt at their feet and next his fingers slipped into the waistline of Benji pants and underwear.

Ethan seemed even closer as he made eye contact and then forced the pants down without loosening the button or fly. The cool air of the room washed over Benji's bare body as, clear of his waist, the clothes went swiftly to the floor. 

Ethan and Benji stood naked and so close their nipples could accidently touch as Benji's bottoms and underwear both pooled around his ankles.

Maybe a sane man would have simply stepped out of them. But Benji waited. He didn't know why, exactly. But he did.

Ethan waited, too, but then, blushing again, he dropped back down to his knees. He gripped Benji's ankle, lifted his foot free of the pant leg… then the other...

Benji's cock began to fill out from the sheer promise of Ethan on his knees. He couldn't resist combing his fingers through that silky soft hair.

God, but he loved the way Ethan leaned into the touch like a cat.

When Ethan looked up, he was smiling. "Don't ever tell me you don't know what you're doing again."

Benji exhaled, pleased to hear that his breakneck dive into all of this was somehow working. That he hadn't yet mucked it all up.

"On the bed." Benji ordered. Ethan moved from the floor to the bed promptly, erection bobbing freely. He knelt in the middle, and gave himself a couple of eager tugs.

"Okay, the rules." Benji said. "Rule one: when I say stop. You stop. No matter what."

Ethan nodded, still stroking himself but now at a more lazy tempo.

"Stop." Benji said. Ethan stopped moving his hand. Then stopped touching himself all together. Benji smiled. "Rule two: don't cum until I say you can."

Ethan bit his lip and nodded.

"And rule three: hold onto the sheets, and don't let go."

***

Ethan grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, sinking helplessly into Benji's ocean of power. Undressing him? It was simple, intimate, and unbelievably effective. Just like the feet thing.

And his rules were promising. Ethan was hard just imagining the things Benji might do to him that would make these rules necessary.

He held the sheets with a white knuckle grip and Benji--naked, strong, powerful Benji--crawled onto the bed. He sat on his haunches, like Ethan was sitting. His dick was upright, ruddy, and Ethan's mouth watered as he remembered the feel of it on his tongue.

Benji stroked his own dick, and Ethan could practically feel the throb of it as precum glistened from the slit. Benji's thighs were together, so his balls were forward, a hot mass at the base of his erection. 

"Remember when you kissed my feet?"

Ethan nodded. The memory of his moment of pseudo worship now blurred into a memory of actual worship. If anyone asked him in that moment, he'd say he loved feet.

Benji's voice was dark and rough, his hand working his dick slowly. "Now you're gonna kiss my balls."

Ethan didn't hesitate. Feeling the shame and sweet surrender all at once, he pitched forward over Benji's lap and put his mouth on that hot, furred sack.

A palm stung across his ass cheek. Benji had reached over the expanse of his back and popped him on his raised ass. "Don't let go of the sheets!"

Ethan had let go as he moved forward to a doggy style position, but he scrambled to grab up fistfuls, mouthing at Benji's balls. Chasing the little ovals of his testes.

Benji's hands, flat, huge and hot, ran from Ethan's ass down his spine to his shoulders and back up. He briefly used one hand to feed his dick into Ethan's mouth.

Ethan moaned as he took it. 

Benji's hand stayed on his head, brushing through his hair, another hand swept over his back, as he began thrusting up into Ethan's mouth. Not long thrusts. He was just sort of bumping his hips up, moving his cock an inch or so through Ethan's mouth. But it was fast. Ruthless.

It was pure debauchery. On his knees, ass up, face to groin, his head held firmly in place as a tip of a cock slipped in and out of his throat in a rapid rhythm. Ethan gagged, and Benji eased off but then went right back in.

Ethan moaned. He wanted to jerk off. His dick throbbed. But he held onto the sheets as he was told.

Suddenly, Ethan's back lit up--hot, sharp, burning --and Ethan realized Benji had dug his nails in and raked across his back from ass to shoulders.

The bite of it shocked Ethan's system. He bucked and choked and tears sprang to his eyes.

Pop! His other ass cheek took a hit, then. Hard. Stinging. Lingering. "The sheets, Ethan. Hold on."

He wanted to say sorry, but his mouth was still full of cock. He grabbed hold of the bed dressing and held on for dear life.

Even as he thrust, Benji ran the pads of his fingers across the nail marks. The sensitivity of the used flesh was like fire licking up his back. Ethan wailed around the cock in his mouth. Drool poured off his chin.

He was a mess. 

He loved it.

Benji raked his nails again, in the same tracks, and-- utterly helpless on the wave of his pain--Ethan spat out Benji's cock with a wail.

"You like that?" Benji asked.

"Yes," Ethan's voice was wrecked, even to his own ears.

"Can you come from just that?"

Fear sliced through Ethan, and he shook his head, "No, no,--no, I need--touch. I need touch to come. Please. Touch." He wasn't sure how to string words together to make his point. He tried his best. Maybe it made sense.

"Alright," Benji purred, petting his hair. "You can use one hand to touch yourself. But remember rule one. What was rule one?"

"S-stop when you say," Ethan said as he took himself in hand. The heat of his palm, the squeeze, brought some release while heightening other needs.

Benji shoved his cock back in Ethan's mouth, going right back to his quick rhythm. Ethan pumped himself and surrendered his throat and arched his back into Benji's hands as he stroked over the angry red lines of pain.

Bliss. 

Pure bliss.

***

Benji never would have believed he would say it, but Ethan's back just now--red lines, ragged skin and sweat--was absolutely gorgeous.

Purely on instinct, he used two hands to finish the masterpiece. One set of nails raked left to right while the other set raked right to left. Ethan yelped and moaned around his cock. The red lines were now hatch work. A beautiful plane of criss crossing marks.

Ethan popped off, his hand working under him fast--flying--and his voice was thin and shaking. "Oh, shit!" he gasped.

"Stop!" Benji barked. The ring of his voice bounced off the hotel room walls.

Ethan stopped. His hand slapped back to the mattress, and his fingers curled into the sheets. So obedient. So good.

On his hands and knees, Ethan hung his head over Benji's lap and gasped for breath. But he kind of nuzzled Benji's erect dick.

Benji petted his hair. "Ok?"

Ethan nodded.

His dick jutted painfully toward the bed. Leaking like a faucet.

"You didn't cum did you?"

Ethan shook his head. "No."

"What's rule two?"

"Don't cum until you say." He lifted a hand and pushed his own sweaty hair from his eyes.

Benji walloped Ethan's ass cheek as hard as he could with the flat of his hand, snapping, "Rule three, Ethan!"

Ethan cried out, and Benji's hand stung from the force of his own slap, but then Ethan was sort of laugh-crying, "Don't let go," he whispered.

Benji pushed the sweaty hair back for him. "Do you want to come?'

"Please," Ethan said, leaning into Benji's touch.

"On your back," Benji ordered.

Ethan shifted--stiffly at first--and then plopped down on his back. He hissed as his ruined skin pressed against the bed. But he grabbed hold of the sheets and let his knees fall open.

His dick was standing up on its own.

"I'm going to suck you," Benji said, "But you can't cum until I say."

"Rule two," Ethan smiled, showing all his white teeth. A perfect, blissed smile. Dopey eyes.

Benji bent down and took Ethan's cock into his mouth. It was hot and hard and slick with his precum, and the taste was real and intoxicating.

Benji worked Ethan's cock with his hands and his mouth, popped off to pay some attention to his tight little balls. For several long minutes, he used his lips and tongue and breath--even his teeth--to tease. He lightly brushed his fingers over tender creases where leg met groin, where groin met taint, where taint met hole.

Ethan writhed, whimpering, as his own movements irritated the wounds on his back. He was--somehow-- begging for more. 

Benji circled his hole with a slick finger, popping off to ask, "Can I penetrate you?'

"Yes, yes! god, yes!"

"Shit, I think I was meant to get that from you when you had a clear head, before you got all needy."

"Fuck that," Ethan panted, "I'm not needy." He was blushing again.

"Yes you are," Benji insisted, "And it's so sexy. The way you need me… you need me inside you don't you?"

"Yes, please."

Benji didn't need any more convincing. He shoved his finger in and crooked it until--Ethan choked and whimpered.

Benji sat back, finger still in him. "Show me how you want to be touched."

Ethan let go of the sheet and started jerking off. He held on with just his thumb and forefinger, pulling himself almost sideways in a rapid rhythm with a kind of twist.

Benji watched and massaged his prostate with his one inserted finger. Ethan made a keening sound.

"Ethan," Benji warned, still prodding him deeply. "Not until I say!"

"Please!" Ethan begged, his eyes were wide. Desperate.

"Stop." Benji ordered. He said it softly, quietly. But Ethan still stopped. Slamming his hand back to the sheet. Gripping it like his life depended on it.

"Very good," Benji murmured, still pressing on that spot.

"You bastard," Ethan sobbed, wriggling on that finger, but he was smiling. Tears dropped out of the corners of his shiney eyes into his hair.

Benji retracted his finger, crawled over him, stroked knuckles over a tear track and chuckled. "I don't think we're broken yet, if you can manage to call me a bastard."

Ethan looked panicked. Benji felt good. Dipping his head, he bit Ethan on the nipple. Hard.

Ethan shrieked. Benji lifted his head, making Ethan's nipple stretch like taffy before pulling free. It was dark red and wet with spit.

"Bet you're regrettin' givin' me the idea," Benji said with relish.

"Fuck you," Ethan laughed.

"And now that I'm thinkin' about it, I think I'll give you a proper spanking for being too loud on that airplane. Complete strangers don't need to know our business. Roll over."

Ethan rolled over. Re-gripping the sheets obediently. His back was even more red now, the skin looking extra skinned and ragged in some places. But no blood. Thankfully.

"How's your back?" Benji asked.

"It's ok," Ethan murmured.

"For now," Benji said, oh so lightly dragging his nails over the hatch work. Ethan trembled and made a sound that Benji could only describe as unease.

He retreated from Ethan's back. Instead, kneading his ass.

"How many hits should you get?" He asked, then without warning, he went ahead and popped him. Ethan jumped but didn't make a sound. His ass cheek bloomed red.

"Answer me," Benji popped him again. Same place.

"Ah!" Ethan jolted and rushed to say, "As many as I deserve."

"Well alright then," Benji said and popped him three times in quick succession. Ethan's ass cheek was blood red and now Benji's hand hurt. But Ethan loved it. And his ass looked phenomenal.

He realized Ethan was rutting against the mattress. Quick, sweet little bumps of his hips.

"Stop that," he said, gripping his hip.

"But--" Ethan argued.

Pop! Ethan yelped. Benji watched the redden flesh jiggle and then raked his nails clean across the already tender area.

Ethan jolted and actually rolled up on one side as if rolling away with a breathy, "Ah! Jesus! No---" but then he fell back. Like an ocean wave that couldn't leave the shore. "Fuck!" He yelled and buried his face in the bed. Though muffled, Benji heard a string of yeses.

Pounding on the wall surprised both of them and a voice shouted, "Hey pervs! Quiet down! Trying to sleep!"

Benji--realizing for the first time in a while that there were in fact other people on the planet--flushed with embarrassment and started laughing.

"Please," Ethan begged. "More."

His ass was red and three welts had risen from Benji's nails. Benji leaned down and blew cool air across them. Ethan sighed.

"Does it hurt?"

"In the best way, baby," Ethan slurred. His voice was all breath, wrecked, "Please, make me come. I can come so good for you. I promise."

"I know you can," Benji whispered, sliding down to lay beside him. "That's why I'm going to milk it out of you."

Ethan's eyes flew open, "Can't you just fuck me?"

Benji kissed his lips. "This is fucking you. Now get on your back."

Ethan rolled over. His dick was straining, his balls swollen and dark.

"Rule two," Benji whispered.

"Not until you say," Ethan answered.

Benji pushed his finger in without preamble and with his other hand, held Ethan's dick the way he had seen Ethan do to himself, except instead of stroking, he held the base. A firm, consistent pressure that almost promised he wouldn't come until precisely when Benji wanted him to.

***

Time slowed to a crawl. All of Ethan's awareness narrowed down into pinpoints. His shredded back against the cheap sheets. His throbbing, abused nipple, his tender ass cheek, the finger inside him and the fingers wrapped around his dick.

The pace Benji picked to probe him with was maddening. Steady. Unyielding. The pleasure of it came in waves, building, and cresting and--when Benji squeezed the base or retracted his finger--falling back down to just building again.

Ethan began to feel like a pressure cooker with shivering bolts.

"Please," Ethan said. He couldn't help but squirm. Even though the state of his back meant squirming was like wriggling on hot coals. "Please. Please--god--please!"

He held onto the sheets. And he stopped trying to thrust when Benji ordered him to stop. And he held back whenever he could have easily come, because he didn't have permission. Though sometimes, he almost couldn't. Sometimes he almost came anyway and each time fear sliced through him. Because he wanted to be good. He wanted to obey. And he didn't want to be punished. 

It was torture.

It was magic.

Ethan dissolved into the sweet agony of it. He was all pleasure and spikes of pain, and longing and fear and surrender and vulnerability.

It was like Benji's hands were pulling each one out of him, pulling it like one long hot thread coming uncoiled from deep inside him.

And then a mouth at his ear whispered, "Come for me, baby."

And he _came_.

***

Ethan broke, and it was magnificent. Benji hurried to follow, getting into position to paint his cum all over Ethan's mouth. It only took a few tugs, and he burst through to the other side. Ethan eagerly lapped up what he could and then they both collapsed.

They caught their breaths in silence, on opposite sides of the bed. Benji felt good. Better than he'd ever felt.

"So," Ethan said between labored breaths. His old brightness was back. "How much kinky Star Trek fanfiction do you actually read?"

"A lot," Benji admitted and laughed. Ethan was laughing, too. Then he hissed.

Benji sat up. "Whoa, hold on. Hold on. Let me get you comfortable. Aftercare is supposed to be the best part!"

Ethan chuckled but seemed happy to relax and let Benji work. He wiped away the cum and got cold compresses and laid them across Ethan's back and the one ass cheek. He used a cool cloth to mop his forehead and neck of sweat. He fetched a cup of water with a straw so he could sip without turning over. He turned on the ceiling fan to help with the stuffiness of the room. Then he settled in and stroked Ethan's feathery hair.

"You're perfect," he said.

Ethan chuckled and patted Benji's bare hip. "Knew I could count on ya, Benji. Never had a doubt."

Benji laughed. "Well, lucky for you, I guess I do have good instincts. How's your back? I didn't take that too far, did I?"

Ethan looked like himself again. Clear eyed, smiling. But dopey with sex and the right kind of exhaustion. "You took it exactly as far as I needed."

"God, Ethan. You were so good." His heart clamoured in his ears. He kissed his forehead. "What else can I do for you? I'll do anything at all. You deserve it, after all that."

"Let me sleep," he whispered, eyes closed, "Just stay with me while I sleep."

Benji scooped him close and, realizing the cool compresses plus the fan had now resulted in Ethan being chilled, he pulled the blanket over them both.

Ethan hummed, snuggled in, and dropped off to sleep.

***

Ethan slept without dreaming for the entire night. When he woke and saw that eight hours had passed, he was stunned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good rest. 

He felt great. His whole body was practically floating. He couldn't tell if it was the mattress, his own relaxed muscles, or the arm caging him that made him so comfortable. Had to be a little of everything.

Then he decided to get up and pee. When he pulled away from Benji's hairy chest, their skin separated and the cool air was like fire on Ethan's back. He gasped lightly.

The details of the sex returned so vividly, Ethan clutched the sheets quickly to avoid punishment. Then he glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. 

Benji was only just visible in the ambient light from the uncovered window. He slept peacefully with his mouth open, snoring again. Ethan inhaled to the bottom of his lungs, so pleased with everything he could almost weep. 

God, this was just what he needed. Maybe there really was someone up there Listening.

These idle, half asleep thoughts brought even more comfort to Ethan as he relieved his bladder and returned to the bed. Benji stirred enough to stop snoring and smacked his lips a few times. 

"It's just me," Ethan whispered as he resettled against Benji's naked, cozily warm body.

Benji mumbled, " _Soakeylemeoldnew_."

"Hm?" Ethan asked, amused.

"Mm?"

Ethan kissed him softly on the lips, confessing, "You're the best I've ever had."

Silence. Then Benji's lips parted for a fresh round of snores. Ethan didn't take it personally, laughing instead. He snuggled close--Benji did snuggle back--and couldn't fall back asleep. He watched the sun rise outside the window.

***

Benji woke to the sound of a ringing cell phone. Before his sleep-heavy mind even considered doing anything about the noise, someone answered it. Weight shifted on the mattress. He wasn't alone.

Benji woke completely to the glare of full daylight. Ethan was sitting on the edge of the bed, speaking to Luther on the phone about facial scanning and target location.

The first thing Benji saw was Ethan's abused back, covered in dark red claw marks in a diamond pattern. 

Jesus. 

Benji bolted upright. He had done that with his own fingernails last night. The scene returned to him in one bright flash. It had definitely been a scene, too. Something straight off the kinkiest corners of the internet.

Ethan twisted to greet him with a bright eyed, bushy tailed smirk, still on the phone. He winked. Benji relaxed by increments. Focusing on breathing helped. 

Ethan looked good. Bright and happy. Strong.

What Ethan had needed had worked. But Benji now understood that more than needing it, Ethan had wanted it. Liked it.

...and Benji had liked it, too. Rather more than he was ready to admit. What did it make him, a man that liked inflicting pain? That was a sadist wasn't it?

He inwardly recoiled from the word.

"Meet you in ten." Ethan said into the phone. He hung up and stood, revealing his bare ass. The one cheek wasn't quite as red as Benji had left it, but wasn't unblemished either. As he crossed the room, Ethan ran a palm over the spot with a tender kind of caress. A movement of pure happiness.

Something stirred within Benji that he squashed instantly. Now was not the time.

"What did Luther say?"

"He scanned all security footage in the city for Ilsa's face and found her. Looks like she's headed for the airport."

"We have to catch her!"

"Get dressed."

Benji leapt out of bed for his clothes and wriggled into some jeans, watching Ethan gingerly shrug into a T-shirt. He hissed. 

Like a shot, Benji went to him and stopped the rolled up shirt from sliding any further down the sore area. "Hang on. Let's do something about this."

"It's ok," Ethan said quickly. Benji tutted. He had seen it with his own eyes. It could not be comfortable to wear a shirt. "Which part hurts the worst?"

Hesitating for only a moment, Ethan relented and whispered, "Left shoulder blade."

Benji had a look and saw that his ring finger had left the thickest darkest line. It was raised and a little swollen. Shame seared up Benji's throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's what I need. It's like. A little something to anchor me."

Benji wanted to hug him, kiss him, make sure he was okay. But there was no time. "I'm still putting a bandaid on it. Don't move."

He tore into the small med kit at the bottom of his bag. Under a minute later, he had ointment and band-aids on the three worst spots. Ethan shrugged on his shirt effortlessly and smiled. So carefree. So casual.

"Thanks. Now let's go."

***

Ethan felt good. And everything felt different. It was like he'd been holding on by his fingertips, but now he had a comfortable ledge on which to perch, and _think_.

And it was all thanks to Benji Dunn. Ethan walked to the meet feeling like he had a secret weapon.

The airport cafe bustled with activity, but from the moment they saw each other, Ilsa's eyes kept Ethan locked in. He couldn't look away if he tried. Her power over him sent warm tingles to his fingertips and toes. Just like when he'd woken cuffed and at her mercy, he sensed something in her. Something primal, powerful, yet kind. And achingly beautiful.

"Come away with me. We can go anywhere and be anything." Ilsa said, her piercing eyes sincere, her voice gentle with new vulnerability.

Ethan gulped; flattered breathless. 

"Oh boy," Luther rumbled in his ear.

Oh boy was right. Run away with Ilsa Faust? Find a sun-soaked villa somewhere, live naked and unbruised--well, a little bruised. She would be one hell of a domme, of that he was certain. And honestly it was an urge to test those waters that made him consider the offer, more than anything.

But he could see it in her eyes, in the whisper she'd spoken. Go anywhere. Be anything.

Be normal.

She was still young, still dreamed about a normal life--maybe even wanted babies--because she was still sweet. Deep down, she hadn't hardened to reality yet. What she was really asking him was to run away and help her save that sweetness before it was too late.

He couldn't do that. He'd lost his own sweetness too long ago.

The settled life wasn't for him--and maybe it wasn't for Ilsa, but she would need to discover that herself, in her own time. The best chance she had to get what she wanted was with someone younger and less jaded.

She saw his answer before he spoke.

***

Forty paces behind Ethan, maintaining casual body language, Benji held his breath waiting on Ethan's answer to Ilsa's proposal. 

_No, no, no. No,_ he thought madly. _Stay with me_ \--

Someone brushed by quite close and something stung Benji's neck. He flinched. Everything went dark so fast all that was in his head as he went down was his last desperate plea, 

_Please, stay mine._

***

Ethan retreated from the power of Ilsa's eyes by leaning back harder in his chair, sinking instead into the lingering fire in the scratches on his back.

Memories of last night swirled through Ethan's blood. 

Benji would have heard her offer, and heard him turn it down. Would Ethan be rewarded for that later?

"What's the message?" Ethan asked, getting the meeting--and his mind--back on track.

Ilsa, coolly detached from his polite rejection, handed over a phone. The same moment, the comms squealed. 

Ethan winced and checked on his team, to find Benji missing. The phone in his hand rang. Benji was unconscious. The Bone Doctor had him. 

Oh god. 

***

Bad guys were supposed to do monologues, Benji thought grumpily. He'd woken cuffed to a chair, face to face with a man that absolutely had to be Soloman Lane.

Not only was he clearly the leader of these thugs, but he was exactly as Ethan had drawn him. Weak chin. Thin lips. Crooked mouth. Glasses.

But Lane did not explain his plan in the slightest. 

So Benji could only guess that Ethan had gotten a ransom call. Benji for the ledger. The bomb vest was a nice touch. Benji could see no escape on his own.

It hurt to breathe. They had beaten him pretty hard around the ribs before strapping him into the vest. Still with no formal explanation, they were driving him somewhere.

They forced him out into a crowded plaza, to a specific table. Central, the explosion would cause the most damage. Unless Benji made a break for it and jumped in the water. Do the whole heroic death thing.

"Sit on this," one of the bad guys said, shoving him into a chair. Benji felt something large and flat depress beneath him. "And don't move again or _boom_."

"Yeah. Got it," he said stiffly. It was a pressure plate. There went his chance at heroic sacrifice.

"You're doing well, agent Dunn," An eerily soft voice said into his ear. Silky. Cold. Benji's blood curdled. Did Lane think that he could recruit him after this if he was nice enough?

A body moved fluidly into the seat beside him. Ilsa, stone faced. "Hello, Benji."

He exhaled in genuine surprise. "Ilsa--" he swallowed the rest. He had only just remembered what she and Ethan had been talking about when he was taken.

What had been Ethan's answer? Was she helping him save a friend one last time before retiring?

"Just stay calm," she said, face unreadable, "Once Lane has the ledger, you can go."

"I'm afraid that's not the case, Ilsa," Lane said in their ears. "Once I have the ledger, the bomb will be unarmed and you will shoot them both. Prove yourself to me once and for all or die with them."

Alarm registered on her face. She met Benji's eye and they both understood that there was no way out. Even if Ethan turned over the ledger, someone was dying tonight….

But then Ethan was there. 

He was there, and he was strong, and he was stone cold amazing.

Simply amazing.

***

There was a God, and even He had cut it fucking close. Point-nineteen seconds? Really?

Ethan wasn't going to complain. Far from it. This was the closest thing to a miracle he'd ever witnessed. 

Ethan's mind was so clear. He felt twenty years younger, sharper. Lane was no match for him, not really. And the fact he had ever thought so was a testament to how lost he had been.

Not anymore. Ethan Hunt was back, baby. And better than ever. 

As they put on police disguises and loaded Solomon's cage onto the truck, Ethan's mind kept sliding back to the sunrise he'd watched in bed with Benji snoring beside him. 

The future was so…. bright. And big. And he looked forward to it.

His eye fell on Ilsa standing by her getaway car. She looked smaller than he'd ever seen her. He approached. 

"Where will you go?"

"I'm free. I can go anywhere."

She still wanted him to go with her. Those eyes had the same power over him, sending his pulse skyrocketing, but he remembered Benji's second rule:

Don't let go.

So he gave her a hug instead, and put her on the plane (car), just like Bogart did. 

She climbed behind the wheel, but looked back one last time, "You know where to find me."

He gulped. She sped off. He exhaled. 

He couldn't track her down just because she wanted him to. She deserved better than him. But most of all, he wasn't ready to walk away from the tranquility he had found under Benji's care.

***

After a restful flight back to the states, Benji stood in the IMF headquarters and watched CIA authorities pull the box out of the back of the truck. He was actually relieved when the gas cleared, and Lane was still in there. Still unconscious. Still captured. Some part of Benji had half worried that Lane would have somehow escaped.

"We've got 'em, Benji." That was Ethan, stepping up beside him, eyes just as glued to Lane as Benji's. He needed to make sure, too. Benji felt better. Or worse.

"What now?" Benji asked.

"Now Brandt and Hunley go in front of the Chairman and ask for our agency back. We've come up with a strategy. It'll work."

Benji nodded. He just felt tired.

"Hey," Ethan knocked his shoulder to Benji's. "Let's go get a beer."

"I don't know, Ethan--"

"I'm not taking no for an answer. You need to talk about what happened to you."

"We're not meant to discuss mission details in public."

"Which is why the beers are from my fridge. Come on."

Benji went with Ethan quietly. They didn't speak for the car ride to Ethan's place. He still had the house, the same he'd bought with Julia. The same they'd thrown dinner parties in, inviting Benji every time… 

Since the split, Ethan didn't throw parties anymore.

In fact, it was still something of a puzzle as to why he even kept the house at all. Being almost always abroad, there wasn't really a need for a cover life. 

Benji followed Ethan's lead kicking out of his shoes just inside the door. Ethan flipped on lights on the way to the kitchen.

The house looked different since Benji's last dinner party here. Fewer of those little touches of a woman. Colors more neutral or masculine. Less decorative odds and ends. It smelled a little stale, like when you've been gone on a long holiday and no one has been in and out to air the place.

"Looks good," Benji said with a motion around the house.

"Thanks," Ethan handed over a beer. "I plan to hang around here for a few days…" Ethan shot a hooded glance his way, "It'd be a nice break."

Benji did a small spit take into his beer as a different state of paradise occurred to him. Something as domestic as it was sensual. 

"Great. Yeah. You totally deserve it."

A beat. Shit, was Ethan onto his train of thought? Was it even fair to assume anything like that could happen here, in the home he shared with Julia?

Ethan nodded toward the kitchen. "Cmon."

***

Two hours later, Ethan and Benji were in lounge chairs on Ethan's screened in back porch. Beers in hand, empties on the patio table. Ethan could see the moon sliding higher up through the trees. Benji was still talking. Ethan was smiling. 

Cracking Benji open had been easy, and he now realized the real mission might be getting him to shut up.

But, for now, Ethan didn't mind. He wanted to hear about all of it.

About Benji's childhood in England, and the religion his family had a sort of laissez-faire approach to, and his one big failed relationship--some guy called Nick he knew from Oxford--and lying to his parents about his job, and being jealous of his sister's happy marriage, and how all of it had weighed in on him as the seconds had ticked down on that vest.

"I guess I always thought life flashing before your eyes was a sort of metaphor. But it happens. At least it did for me. It did. But the thing is--the thing is, they don't talk about how what you're really seeing when that happens isn't your life, but the holes in it."

Ethan pulled his eyes off the moon, really looking at his friend for the first time in a while. Benji was picking at his bottle label. And just like that, he seemed to be done talking. 

A lull fell and Benji started to look nervous when Ethan spoke up. "I know what you mean. When Lane took the London terminal, he locked me in a record room and pumped it full of a sleep agent. At the time, I didn't know what the gas was. I just knew the Syndicate had found me. Lane was outside the room, killing without batting an eye... I thought that was it. I really did." Chill bumps rose over his arms in the cool night air as he recalled the feeling. "I mean, every agent has to go at some point, and I've had a longer run than most and--anyway that didn't make it any easier. I was still... Well, I was caught off guard and scared. Frustrated. So frustrated. And. I wouldn't say my life flashed before me, but I was very aware of how small it had become. I was trapped and afraid to breathe, looking evil in the eye, and I just felt.... So alone."

Benji sat up, feet on the ground, facing Ethan. "You're not--"

"I know. And the next time I almost died--well, I did die the next time, I guess--" they smiled, "but that time it wasn't that I felt alone, it was that I felt... Well. You know what I felt. You helped me with it."

Benji blushed, bit his lip.

***

Finally they addressed the elephant on the porch. Benji's heart fluttered. Suddenly, the thing he'd been circling around all evening as he drank and babbled about his feelings on death was right there.

Another lull fell. Benji made his decision and sat his beer down and cleared his throat. "Okay, so when that timer stopped at less than one second, I realized something pretty big."

Ethan smiled. "Yeah? What?"

"I realized that if I die without having ever made love--proper love--to you, then my whole life would have been a waste.-- Let me finish--" Ethan had opened his mouth but Benji hurried to continue, "I know that what's happened between us has had a degree of casualness to it? Friends helping friends. But I want more with you, Ethan. I want to do what we did again, but I don't want it to be just because you need it and anyone with a steady hand will do. I want it to be because we both want it and you're mine. And only I can give it to you--" Ethan sat up from his chair, feet on the ground facing Benji. But Benji couldn't stop now. Even when a kind of whimper sound slipped in between his words. "Hng, I want to make love to you all night and make you laugh after I've made you hurt, and--god-- I want to hold you and whisper my stories to you and wake up with you and--I want it all, Ethan."

He finished with a kind of gasp because he'd used all the air in his lungs to rush it all out to the open. His eyes were burning. His heart was racing.

Ethan was looking at him. He seemed to be trying not to smile. He bobbed his head and did smile, "I'm in."

And it was that simple. Ethan made it that simple. 

Benji released a self conscious laugh and dashed away a tear with a sniff. "Really? I thought it'd be harder to convince you."

Ethan tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because you're just so... Cool."

"Benji," Ethan went fluidly out of his chair, onto his knees on the wood planks of the porch. He held Benji's knees. "You know you're a sexy spy with a British accent, right?"

Ethan was kneeling in front of him. Desire and ideas crashed through Benji. He wanted it all, so much it hurt.

Benji covered the hands on his knees with his own. He could have said anything, or he could have just kissed him. But what he said instead was, "What about Ilsa?"

Ethan shortened his chin. "What about her?"

Benji wanted to crawl in a hole and die. "You have this... energy with her."

Ethan smiled and squeezed his knees. "I have energy with you, too."

"Yeah but--"

"What is this?" Ethan cut in, eyebrows knitting together, "Insecurity over my bisexuality?"

Benji huffed. "You did use the word dabble when you said you like cock."

"I didn't say dabble, you said dabble," Ethan returned, smoothly. "I said I like a good cock every now and then."

"Ethan," Benji was frustrated and shoved away his hands. "I want you, but I don't want to be always wondering if you're with me just because I'm the only viable option or I'm convenient or whatever! I need to know that if she was right here offering the same thing I'm offering, that you would pick me."

"Well, I did pick you," Ethan said through his teeth. "I guess you completely missed that moment where she offered to run away with me and I didn't go with her."

"That was for the mission."

"What about after we had Lane? When she told me to find her. Does it look like I'm racing to her? I'm in the states. Here. On this porch. With you."

"Well... I guess--"

"I'm yours, Benji." he rasped, His voice adopted the barest of shivers. "You're the only one that can give me what I want."

Benji caressed his face, smiling at him, and kissed him. Ethan surged up into the kiss, holding him by the elbows. When Benji broke away for air, his heart was hammering, and his voice was low and rough. "You're mine?"

"Yes," his smile was honest and his eyes were bright, and locked on Benji's lips, "Yours to make love to whenever you want, as many times as you want, in any _way_ that you want."

Benji exhaled a shuddering breath, "Well, that's settled then. And now I think it's time you showed me to your bedroom, dearest."

Ethan stepped away, but his hand slipped into Benji's. Pulling him inside, he smiled, wagging his eyebrows, "This way."

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the movie better by imagining that those handcuffs Ethan woke up in are identical to his and Benji's sex cuffs and right up until he saw the bone doctor, Ethan was about 75% sure Ilsa was a Friend and the whole thing was a kinky game Benji was doing. LOL


End file.
